


Down Lime Street

by lumaste



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Liverpool, M/M, Prostitution, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumaste/pseuds/lumaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stevie is a sailor, who returns to Liverpool after a journey and meets Fernando.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down Lime Street

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Liverpudlian folk song [Maggie May](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jpdqkcar1IQ). [The Beatles' version.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6CTBMlu1PA)

_Stevie blinks, closes and opens his eyes, wants to rub them, but he's too weak to move. The face in front of his eyes doesn't disappear. It is familiar, but Stevie's mind is hazy and he can't tell where he's seen it. And though his mind is hazy, he can still think logically and he knows that there isn't anyone here except himself and the priest. But as much as he tries, he doesn't see the priest. He can see only this youthful face and he feels that he knows who it belongs to, knew it many years ago, but he can't put a name to the face. He doesn’t know why he sees it. Why does he see it now, on his deathbed? Who is it?_

_"Make your confessions, son, the time is short," the priest says._

_Stevie looks at him, but sees only that face. It is looking at him unblinking. Stevie stares back for long minutes. And then he remembers..._

***

Stevie felt the Liverpool soil under his feet again. He breathed in the air. He loved it even more than the sea air. There was still the scent of the sea, but there was also the city. And Stevie had missed the city like mad, like he always missed it whenever he was sailing to distant shores. But he couldn't stay here. The sea was calling him and sometimes it even filled his pockets with money. This journey had been successful too. He had suffered the humid heat of the African coast, but he'd been paid well enough.

Stevie was walking happily in Liverpool streets, taking in the sight and the scents of the city. It hadn’t changed a lot while he was away, but he still looked at everything like it was the first time. He was nearing the Canning Place, when a face caught his attention in the middle of the crowd. 

It was a young and beautiful face, a smiling one, and the boy it belonged to was walking slowly up and down the street. His steps had a certain playful quality in them, his body matched his face in beauty, and Stevie found himself staring. The first impression was so overwhelming, that only moments later it occurred to Stevie that the boy wasn't just having a nice walk, he was working here. 

Stevie gulped and took a few steps forward. The streetwalker's look soon rested on him. He stared at Stevie appraisingly, then his smile widened and he nodded, motioning him to come closer. Stevie hesitated for a second, then walked to him. 

"Hello, handsome sailor," the boy drawled, "Welcome back home." 

Stevie nodded. He wished the boy would get straight to business. He'd been on that ship for far too long. 

"Where have you been?" the streetwalker continued, seeming genuinely interested. 

"Sierra Leone," Stevie grumbled, "Back this afternoon." 

"Oh," the boy said playfully, "You must be so tired. Maybe I can help you relax." 

"You can try," Stevie said. 

The boy's face brightened. "I know a nice tavern nearby," he said, "They'll be happy to see us." 

"Let's go," Stevie said. 

They walked together along the dark street. The streetwalker seemed at ease and Stevie felt his calmness seeping through him. He cleared his throat. "What's your name?" 

"Fernando," the boy answered. 

"Fernando," Stevie repeated, letting the foreign syllables roll on his tongue, "I'm Steven." 

"Nice to meet you, Stevie," Fernando grinned. 

"You're not from here," Stevie said. 

"I've been here so long, that sometimes I think I'm born here." 

Stevie wanted to say something, but didn't know what, so he opted for ogling Fernando instead. He was really beautiful, you could rarely meet someone like him on the streets. Stevie was lucky. The longer he looked at Fernando, the more he wanted him. He couldn’t wait when they would get to that damned tavern. When he was already going to offer to go to one of the back alleys and risk getting arrested for public indecency, Fernando exclaimed, "Here is the tavern." 

"Finally," Stevie muttered. 

He tapped his foot impatiently on the floor, while Fernando was greeting the owner. The man gave both of them a scornful look, but led them to a room at the far end of the corridor. The door hadn't closed yet after him, when Stevie pushed Fernando to the wall and kissed him hungrily. 

The boy laughed, when Stevie pulled back to catch his breath. "Are you in a hurry?" he teased, "We can have the whole night, if you want." 

"Yeah," Stevie said, "I do want." 

Fernando laughed again. "I like you," he said. 

His words turned Stevie on even more. Though he was in a state, where everything Fernando said could set him on fire. 

"You'd like me more, if you got on the bed," Stevie said. 

Fernando flashed him a grin and got rid of his clothes quickly. Stevie fumbled nervously with his own clothes, but finally managed to take them off and joined the boy on the bed. 

 

Fernando was good. Fernando was really good. Stevie didn't remember the last time he'd been with someone this good. He told the boy so, while lying exhausted next to him and admiring his freckled skin. Fernando just smirked smugly, as though he'd heard that so many times already. He probably had. 

He didn't seem in a hurry. Kept lying with Stevie, tracing his finger on the sailor's bare shoulder. Stevie hoped he would stay for the night. He was ready to add more money to what he'd already paid, if he did, but he didn't want to ask. For some reason he was suddenly scared that Fernando would be bored and leave, so he started desperately searching for something to say. 

"Why are you doing this?" he asked bluntly and mentally cringed. 

Fernando looked confused for a second, then shrugged. "It's my job. Why are you doing your job? To make money, yes?" 

"Yes, but also because I love the sea," Stevie said. 

"Well, not everyone is that lucky," Fernando said. Then he probably noticed Stevie's look full of pity, because he quickly added, "I'm not complaining. My job isn't too bad. It pays well. I can buy myself fancy things and I can even save a little." He smiled dreamily. "Maybe one day I will have enough money to buy a small house far away, where no one will know me, and live as a respectable gentleman." 

He had closed his eyes while talking and looked almost magically beautiful. Stevie couldn't help himself. He leaned over and kissed him. Fernando answered readily and didn't complain when Stevie pulled the covers off him again. 

 

Stevie woke up feeling happy and rested. With his eyes still closed he remembered the night and smiled fondly. He stretched his hand to the other side of the bed to check if Fernando was there, but met only cold sheets. Stevie opened his eyes and looked around. Fernando wasn’t in the room. Stevie frowned. Getting up, he went to put on his clothes and noticed that his belt was gone. So was his hat. And his money. 

“Fucking whore,” Stevie snarled, running out of the room. 

“Where is he?” he shouted, startling the owner. 

“W-who?” he stuttered. 

“The dirty thief I came with yesterday. Where is he? You know him.” 

“I-I don’t know…” 

“Tell me right now or I’ll smash your face and then your place,” Stevie yelled, approaching the man threateningly. 

“Wait, wait, I really don’t know where he is,” the tavern owner pleaded, “But he usually works on Lime Street.” 

“If I don’t find him, I’m coming back here,” Stevie hissed and went out. 

“Hey, wait, who’s going to pay for the room?” the man called, but fell silent, when Stevie turned and glared at him murderously. 

He strode to Lime Street, but stopped in the corner, so the thief wouldn’t see him and flee. He was there, thankfully walking with his back to Stevie, and the sailor quickly approached him and pushed him to the wall. It felt like last night all over again, only this time Stevie felt nothing but fury. 

“Where is my money?” he hissed. 

Fernando had managed to compose himself after the initial fright and even had the insolence to look confused. “What are you talking about?” he asked. 

Stevie shook him. “Don’t make me madder than I already am,” he said. 

“I don’t know where your money is,” Fernando insisted. 

Snarling in rage, Stevie raised his fist to hit him, but Fernando ducked and he hit the wall instead. He threw the boy to the ground and was going to kick him, when Fernando cried, “Wait, don’t, I’ll tell you.” 

“Well, tell me then,” Stevie said, hovering above him. 

“It-it’s in Kelly’s pawnshop,” Fernando said, “You can go there and take it. Tell them I sent you.” 

“Oh, no,” Stevie laughed mirthlessly, “You’re coming too.” 

He pulled the streetwalker to his feet and dragged him along, ignoring his protests. Though Fernando fell silent soon and calmly followed the sailor. Stevie glanced at him and felt his anger dissipating. Damn his charms, there was just something about him. Stevie sighed. 

“Why did you have to spoil everything?” he murmured. 

“Sorry, didn’t know we were in a relationship,” Fernando answered. 

Stevie glared. “I still want to smash your head, so you’d better think before talking.” 

Fernando glanced at him fearfully and looked away. 

“Why did you take my belt and hat?” Stevie asked. 

“I liked them,” Fernando mumbled. 

Stevie didn’t know whether to laugh or to punch him. 

“Could have at least paid for the room,” he muttered. 

“It’s on the client,” Fernando answered. 

Stevie clenched his fists. “You fucking robbed me, you…” 

“Here’s the pawnshop,” Fernando cried, “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

With these words he bolted to the door on the left and slammed it shut. Stevie was in shock for just a few seconds, then ran to the door. It didn’t open and Stevie started kicking and punching it until a frightened looking young man opened the door. Stevie shoved him away and burst in. 

“Where is that whore?” he shouted. 

The young man didn’t even try to lie to him. "He's run out of the back door," he whispered. 

Stevie got out of the pawnshop in time to see Fernando turn around the corner. He wanted to run after him, but then remembered that there was a shortcut to get to the street Fernando was currently running along. 

The streetwalker froze in surprise, when he almost bumped into Stevie. He didn't have time to turn back, because the sailor tackled him to the ground and wrapped his hands around his throat. 

"I'm going to kill you, you lying, dirty piece of shit," he shouted. 

"What's going on here?" Stevie heard and felt someone pull him away. 

He looked up and saw a police officer looking sternly at them. 

"Nothing, sir," Fernando choked out, getting up to his feet. 

"Nothing?" Stevie smirked, "I wouldn't call this nothing." 

Fernando's eyes widened and he suddenly threw his arms around Stevie's neck. "Don't tell him, I'll give it back," he whispered into his ear. 

But Stevie had had enough. He shoved Fernando away, but gripped his arm, so he wouldn't flee again. 

"This boy over here is a thief," he told the policeman, "He robbed me, stole all my money earned by hard work on the sea." 

Fernando looked at him, as though he couldn't believe his ears. Stevie felt a pang of guilt, but the little shit deserved it. He'd given him a chance to return his money and things. Everything was fair. So he kept staring coldly at Fernando, who was struggling feebly against the policeman dragging him away. 

 

Stevie still had about two hours to wander around the docks before getting on board and sailing to far coasts. He couldn’t wait to leave the city. He missed the sea so bad and he also wanted to get away from Liverpool for a while and forget what had happened. 

He was chatting with Carra about the new journey and the captain, while looking around at the ships sailing away and to the port, when Carra tapped his shoulder. 

“Look there, the convicts are sailing to Botany Bay,” he said. 

Stevie turned without thinking and immediately regretted it, because the first thing he saw was Fernando’s face. He stood out in the crowd of convicts or maybe it was just that Stevie hadn’t stopped thinking about him after that day. 

He looked lost, not smiling anymore, but turning his head to the right and to the left almost surprised, as though he couldn’t believe that he was here, chained to the other convicts and going to be on the board of a ship sailing to a colony in Australia. Stevie wanted to look away, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Fernando. He seemed paler and thinner than the night the sailor had seen him or was it just Stevie’s imagination playing tricks on him? 

When Fernando finally locked gazes with Stevie, his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something or maybe he just wanted to take a breath. Then he stumbled and fell, but quickly got up to his feet. The guards had stopped them to do something Stevie didn’t understand, because he kept staring at Fernando and the boy was staring right back. 

“Isn’t it that Spanish whore from Lime Street?” Carra said suddenly. 

“You know him?” Stevie asked sharply. 

“Well, yeah,” Carra answered a little surprised, “A fucking dirty thief he is, nothing more. I knew one day he was going to end up here.” 

“He’s robbed many?” 

“Many. Sailors, captains… Well, he’ll never walk down Lime Street anymore. The fucking whore had it coming.” 

“Yeah, he did,” Stevie murmured. 

“Botany Bay is a horrible place,” Carra said, “I bet he won’t last even a year there.” 

Stevie closed his eyes. “How do you know? Maybe he will,” he objected quietly. 

“Don’t think so. Just look at him,” Carra said. 

Stevie didn’t think so either. One year at most, the reason was telling him, not the seven he had to serve. 

Fernando was still looking at him unblinking. His expression wasn’t angry, ashamed, accusing or pleading. He just kept looking. 

Stevie looked at him until it seemed to him that he’d memorized Fernando’s face to the latest detail, until he felt like it was engraved on the deepest layers of his brain. Then he turned back. 

“Let’s go,” he told Carra. 

“Where?” his friend asked. 

Stevie didn’t answer. He strode away, feeling Fernando’s eyes on him, and never once looked back.

***

_“The time is short,” the priest repeats._

_Stevie doesn’t hear him. Stevie doesn’t see him. He sees just one face, which he thought he had long forgotten. A face he saw last in the Liverpool port. He wishes it would do something, smile, cry, shout, anything, but it just keeps looking at him._

_“Go away,” Stevie tries to say, but he can barely move his lips._

_“Make your confessions.” The priest sounds annoyed._

_Stevie can't even breathe now. He helplessly looks at the young face._

_“I sent you to your death,” he whispers, "Forgive me."_

_He finally sees a smile on that face. Suddenly he feels so light, feels like he’s floating over the bed and can go higher if he wishes. The face disappears and Stevie closes his eyes._


End file.
